


Fractured

by bitter_sweets



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Amnesia, Anal Sex, Betrayal, Blow Jobs, Breast Fucking, Complete, Dark, Dark Harry Potter, Drugged Sex, F/M, Infidelity, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-consensual Infidelity, POV Harry Potter, POV Third Person, POV Third Person Limited, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Hogwarts, Post-War, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Shameless Smut, Smut, Taboo, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:01:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22325221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitter_sweets/pseuds/bitter_sweets
Summary: Harry's sick. Sick in the worst of ways. And it's far, far too late. Hermione is the first to discover the true depths of his depravity. He breaks her trust in the cruelest way possible. Not that it matters.She won't remember it later anyways.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 18
Kudos: 209
Collections: Read





	Fractured

**Author's Note:**

> **READ THE TAGS!** THIS FIC CONTAINS **GRAPHIC** DEPICTIONS OF **RAPE/SEXUAL VIOLENCE**. VIEWER DISCRETION IS HIGHLY ADVISED.   
> Seriously, just read the tags. This is a genuinely fucked up story about a genuinely fucked up act of violence. There's no happy ending, no revenge for Hermione or closure. **Don't** read this if you're sensitive to the subject of rape/sexual violence. I tried to tag it as best as I could so nobody who doesn't want to read it stumbles across it unawares. I hope this goes without saying, but rape is a horrible fucked up evil thing to do. I do not promote, condone, or glorify sexual violence in any way.
> 
> That aside, if you do decide to keep reading, I hope you enjoy. For any of my regular readers, this is a one-shot I wrote while in the process of working on a multi-chapter continuation of a previous fic. That fic is currently around 17,000+ words, but I took a small break to write this so I didn't burn out on the bigger project. Anyone who enjoyed **_A Gentler Kind of Violence_** , keep your eyes out. It should be out within a few months. (I write every chapter and edit it all before posting)

It was a horrible thing, really, to think of.

Something was wrong with him. Something sick, something ugly and rotten. Maybe it was the Horcrux, or maybe it had always been inside him, or maybe it was some fucked up remnant of a broken childhood. Hermione would have a clinical answer from some psychology book, some reason. Something to blame. A way to rationalize something he’d long stopped trying to understand.

It didn’t matter in the end.

“Hey- mate- ‘Mione was wondering if you’re free for dinner this Friday?”

Harry grinned, leaning back in his chair to stretch. “Sure. Are you cooking?”

“Of course.” Ron’s eyes brightened, vivid blue. “Did I tell you though- she’s actually made some decent cookies lately. I’ll bring-“

He listened to his best friend chatter like a lovestruck husband. Which he would be soon, if the gold band glinting on his finger was anything to go by. It was sickening then, to know what Harry knew. To know what he had jerked off to for countless nights, dreamed of even. The levels he’d sank to. A part of him found it almost fascinating how different he was to how everyone expected. He didn’t know if he’d always been different, or if it was the Horcrux. The urges had certainly started during the War, but it was gone. He should be _fine_.

He was anything but.

* * *

“Come in, come in. Ron’s just pulling out the roast.”

Harry laughed and followed her into their house. “Fancy. Am I in trouble?”

She just rolled her eyes at him. “Are you? Come on, sit down.”

He let himself be bossed into the warm kitchen. Ron turned around, ginger hair clashing horribly with his bright pink apron. He’d thrown a fit when George had gotten him it, but he hadn’t thrown it out. Like the rest of the house, the kitchen was done in rust tones, browns and warm woods. It reminded him of the Burrow in the best ways, though Hermione wouldn’t abide by the same level of chaos. He could see her marks on the space like fingerprints from the stacks of books to the endless sticky notes and well used calendar.

“How’s your night been?” Ron asked as he wiped his hands off on a towel.

“Better now that I’m getting free food.” He gave a cheeky smile and his red-headed friend just snorted.

“Git.”

“What else?”

Hermione sat down across from him, her hair pretty, brown curls falling like a free mane. He liked it. She’d grown up in a lot of ways since they were kids, one being more pride in her appearance. Ron was a lucky man. She leaned forward. “Have you finished resolving that charge?”

Harry grimaced. _That_. “Not yet . . .”

“Harry-“

“How’re things at the Ministry?” he asked, cutting across her.

She gave him an annoyed look but answered anyways. Harry listened and asked the right questions. He ate a perfectly spiced roast and thanked Ron. It was a familiar ritual, one of friendship, of family. This was a place he could feel safe. _They_ could feel safe. It made him feel sick to have the things in his mind he did.

Whether that was with revulsion or delight, he wasn’t sure.

Something was wrong with him.

* * *

“If you’ll be lonely while Ron’s at the game, I could come over.”

Hermione considered him, her face little more than flames. “You aren’t going?”

He snorted. “I’m fine supporting the Cannons from a distance, but I don’t need to go see them get their arses handed to them in person.”

She laughed. “Fine, come over then. I could use the company.” Her eyes lit up. “We could finish the Lord of the Rings trilogy!”

He smiled. “Sure.”

Soon enough the call ended, and Harry got up from his knees. His heart pounded in his chest, butterflies danced on his ribcage. It wasn’t planned, but he’d always been good at winging things. And he’d been ready for a while. He’d dreamed of it, imagined every possible scenario. Getting the potion had been harder, but money moved mountains. It could get him a highly illegal substance. He grabbed it from the false floorboard in his flat’s bedroom.

_Finally_.

Harry dressed carefully, choosing comfortable black jeans and a bottle-neck green jumper Hermione had picked out. It was fitting, in a twisted way. Perhaps it was all a little twisted, he’d been that way for a while. The green eyes that looked back at him in his mirror he didn’t recognize. His mind had been a little like hell for the last few years. A slow madness.

Nobody had noticed and it was far too late.

Maybe Voldemort had really won, Harry mused as he stepped out of their fireplace. Hermione beamed at him and ushered him into the living room, already babbling about the movie. He hadn’t killed him, but The-Boy-Who-Lived was certainly dead. That child was gone. Some days he wondered if his own soul had been damaged by the Horcrux’s destruction, if he’d had to sacrifice something more.

He should hate himself.

He didn’t.

It was too easy when she left for the washroom. Harry pulled the vial from his pocket and dripped three clear drops into her tea. His heartbeat was a hypnotic drumbeat, anticipation rising like a charmed snake. He licked his lips, already imagining how the effects would appear. She just needed a mouthful. Hermione returned, far too sexy in those jeans. He didn’t stare at her ass, but he wanted to. _Merlin_ , he wanted to.

“Did they already get to- oh, so you see this is-“

He responded how he should, but every cell in his being was screaming for her to just drink her tea. It was hard to concentrate. Finally, _finally_ , ten long minutes later she took another sip. And another. Her eyes glazed a bit and she drained the entire cup. He smiled as she placed it down slowly. For a long moment there was silence, Hermione just staring distantly like she’d forgotten where she was.

“Are you alright, Hermione?”

“I don’t know?” Her voice was blank, bemused.

His smile felt like it would split his face. Sick couldn’t begin to describe it. “Spit on the ground.”

She did as told immediately, then stared at it, as though wondering what it was. But she didn’t say anything. His chest felt ready to burst. It was working- everything was coming together perfectly. He took a moment to still himself. No need to get ahead of himself. He wanted to take his time. Savor the experience.

“Take your top off.”

Hermione did as he asked, not a second of hesitation as she shed her blouse. The bra she was wearing was lacy white, the pink of her nipples visible through them. She was beautiful. Harry couldn’t help himself, he reached out and felt them. More than he could fit in one hand, it still amazed him to this day how a bookworm like Hermione could have such an incredible body. She didn’t react as he touched her, just watched him with the same blank eyes. Clever, smart Hermione hadn’t predicted this.

His pants felt tight just thinking about it.

“Suck me off.”

Ron had complained a few times that ‘Mione hated giving head. It was doubly satisfying watching her fall to her knees in front of him. She unzipped his pants and pulled out his already hard cock. There was no hesitation. Her mouth closed around him and he let out a groan as she sucked him. Hot and wet- wrong on so many levels. He pressed his back into the couch, hand wound in her curls.

“ _Fuck_ \- deeper- oh _God_ \- Hermione-“

There was nothing else like watching his best friend take his dick down to the root. Her lips stretched around him, wet with saliva and those brown eyes stared up at him. He’d dreamed of this, but it was nothing on reality. Harry pushed her down further, unable to stop himself as he thrust into her mouth. Already he could feel his balls tightening, far too aroused to last long.

“So fucking smart-“ He gasped. “But you’re just good for sucking cock, aren’t you?”

Hermione bobbed her head, not slowing and the sight was enough to push him over the edge. He came in her mouth, thrusting as deep as he could. She coughed and choked a bit but took it all. Harry pulled out and the sight of his cum dripping down her chin made him nearly moan. _Fuck_.

“Good girl.” He stroked her head, smiling at the empty look she gave him. “Fuck- that was amazing ‘Mione.”

He wasn’t old by any means, but he’d need magical assistance to do as much as he wanted before Ron was home. Harry pulled a second vial from his pocket and downed the vibrant blue liquid. Immediately he could feel energy returning and his cock stiffened. He was going to have her every way he wanted, regardless of she would have thought about it.

“Come here-“

He fucked her tits, watching his cock slide between the mounds of flesh. She didn’t complain, didn’t protest, just watched. Harry finally came on her face, the milky substance dripped down her cheeks. It was perfect. If she knew what was happening to her she’d be horrified, disgusted, terrified. Hermione valued her bodily freedom more than anything. To strip her free will and make her his fuck toy was fucked on so many levels it had him throbbing. Little Miss Perfect, made for him to use.

“Beg me to fuck you,” he said, barely able to keep from panting.

“Please fuck me Harry.” It was slightly monotone, but he didn’t care. Just hearing her say those words had him on the edge. “Please- please fuck me.”

He Banished her clothes and pulled her onto his lap. The feeling of her heat pressing down on him had him groan. It was beyond fucked up, this was his best friend’s fiancé, a woman that had _trusted_ him- He let out a small hiss as he sank his cock into her. Impossibly hot and tight. She made small noises of discomfort, but they just made him want her more. He pumped into her, her body pressing on his cock from every direction.

“Oh- _fuck_ -“

Harry knew he was damned, knew he was broken. He revelled in it. Revelled in the sensation of fucking someone who would have never wanted him normally. The satisfaction of taking that choice from her. His toy to use. He came inside her, groaning deep and low as the orgasm crashed over him. Hermione would have never wanted unprotected sex. Or to carry a man’s seed other than Ron’s. He grinned as he watched his cum drip out of her pussy. Satisfying couldn’t begin to describe it.

Anal had been something Hermione swore she would never do. Harry cast a quick but thorough Cleaning Charm on her arse. He lubed his fingers up with another spell and inserted one, fascinated to watch the ring of muscles swallow it. Her arse was tight, burning hot as he worked his finger around to loosen her up. The last thing he needed to do was rip her up so she’d have physical signs of it. Though- he slowed, maybe another time. Already he knew this wouldn’t be the last.

Not by a long shot.

A second finger and then a third. He worked her, stretching and scissoring until finally he couldn’t wait any longer. Harry guided her into position, face on the carpet, arse in the air. The sight of her enchanted submission was something he’d never forget, every line engraved in his memory. He smoothed his hand over the peachy curve of her generous ass and spread her cheeks. It was almost too tight as he shoved his lubed cock in slowly. Harry let out a small gasp, leaning forward over her.

  
“Fuck- just like that, ‘Mione-“

Further and further until he was buried to the hilt. Sweltering heat pressed around him and he began to pump in and out slowly. He’d wanted this for so long, it almost didn’t feel real. Hermione gave small gasps as he fucked her, her body gripped painfully tight around him. The sight of her curly head pressed against the carpet, her ass bouncing on his cock- _fuck_ \- it was a _lot_. He almost regretted drugging her, part of him wanted to see how a sober Hermione would react to him violating her. Raped by her best friend in her own living room.

He came twice in her arse, barely able to resist a third.

When he pulled out, he got a good look at her ass, the loosened ring of muscles. His cum dripping out slowly. Well fucked. Harry sank into the couch, panting. Hermione just stayed there, arse raised and cum trailing its way down her thighs. He watched her for a while. The sight of a proud woman reduced to a mindless cum dump against her own will. Already his mind was spinning with ideas for future evenings. So many ways to use her, so little time.

Harry was careful to clean up.

Nearly ten minutes later, Hermione finally spoke, fully dressed. “What just happened?”

He picked his words careful. In this phase of the potion she would take his answer as absolute truth and her mind would create the memories to fill in seamlessly. More secure than an Obliviate, which could weaken or be broken. “We watched The Return of the King together. We both had a good time and you’re glad to have me over.”

Her face changed so quickly it was almost like watching a sheen of frosted ice melt. “I’m really glad you liked it Harry! So what do you think of the series as a whole, now that you’ve seen the end?”

“It’s a good story,” he said and smirked. “It’s a bit funny how the evil undid itself in the end. The ring’s own evil and lure was the reason it fell in the lava.”

“Evil always undoes itself.” She smiled. “Kind of like how Voldemort marked you as his equal, and you defeated him in the end.”

Harry laughed. It was fascinating, as they talked, how complete the amnesia was. She spoke with the same warmth, the same absolute _trust_. When she hugged him goodbye, he remembered the feeling of sinking his cock into her arse. He smiled.

“I’ll be back soon, yeah?”

“Any time, Harry! You’re always welcome.” 

He went home, every step somehow both heavier and lighter than the last. Everything was backwards inside of him, some kind of fucked up perversion. He was insane. Sick. _Twisted_. And he knew this wouldn’t be the last, _couldn’t_ be the last. He was going to have her. Again, and again, and again. And she’d never even know. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or vomit or both.

Merlin- he was _fucked_.

* * *

“-so then Dennis actually saved it! I mean they still lost by a landslide, but that was a solid save! Tricky conditions too.” Ron nodded to himself.

“I’m glad you found something decent out of the game,” Harry said, sifting through their latest report.

Ron sat forward. “Yeah. Hey- ‘Mione told me she had you over during the game. I can’t _believe_ you actually sat through all the movies. It’s so _cheesy_!”

Harry shrugged, then grinned as he remembered the feeling of her mouth around his dick. “It wasn’t that bad.”

Not that bad at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Shorter than usual, but I feel like it suited the story. It was interesting writing a Harry that was so mentally fucked, I've never actually written a Dark!Harry story before. Let me know what you think in the comments, good or bad. I'm always looking to improve. I hope you enjoyed the story. And as always, this is my account for Dark and twisted fucked up stuff, so feel free to drop suggestions for future fics. I won't necessarily do them, but I'm always looking for new inspiration/ideas. My continuation for A Gentler Kind of Violence was directly inspired from a commentor. (You know who you are, you brilliant bastard) Don't be shy.


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